


Ursidae

by Anonymous



Series: Cosmic Chronicles [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Pre-Season Five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Echo realises she doesn’t care if it’s a bear or not. The joke is clear—they’re comparing her warrior paint to the animal’s markings. Harper didn’t mean any harm by it. (Harper never means any harm.) Still, it stings. Beneath the impassive exterior, Echo feels something twist sharp within her.





	Ursidae

“Like a—Like a— _sad panda!_ ”

Harper’s voice breaks as she keels forward.

Echo’s come to understand that insults and jokes are the most common currency on the ring. Too often the insults are a little too jagged at the edges, catching and wounding. There’ve been times she has had to step in between Murphy and Monty to keep the peace. It’s not always easy to tell what will set off who but living in fear of the next landmine proves futile. For the most part she’s learned to take it in stride, even when she’s the subject of ridicule. (Honestly, the moment they started poking fun at her she felt more included than ever before, even if after she struggled to understand whether their commentary sourced from sincere disfavour.)

However, she’s uncertain how to react tonight.

She scans their faces, one by one. There must be something in her expression because as soon as Harper meets her eye, the smile on her face drops. Then Monty goes silent. Bellamy. Raven. Emori. (Emori is taking her cues from Raven as of late.) Eventually John hazards a glance her way and stops laughing, his expression surprisingly soft and open.

“It’s an animal, Echo,” he tells her. As her eyebrow arches, he repeatedly taps the table before extending his hand towards Bellamy. It’s as impolite and characteristic a request as any he’s made. Even as she teeters on the outside looking in, she’s attentive. Bellamy is the only one who allows John to get away with it. The tablet is handed wordlessly.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Raven reassures, putting a hand on her forearm. Just like Bellamy makes special concessions for John, Echo does them for Raven. No one dares to touch her on purpose after she pinned John the wall and pressed a blade to his throat.

(It happened four months ago and was quite the event. She saw herself lose whatever traction she’d gained with Bellamy in that short time. The gun he pointed at her in retaliation—she would later learn—had the safety engaged, but that didn’t keep its rounded mouth from haunting her dreams for weeks.)

“Pandas were cute,” Monty adds. (It’ll take years for him to talk about how his mother had a small painting of one when he was growing up.)

John slides the tablet across the table towards her and she catches it without trouble. Lifting the tablet and glancing down, she frowns. On the screen is an image of an animal. She certainly doesn’t recognise it, though it’s thick four legs remind her of _maskwa_.

“It is a bear?” she asks tentatively, setting the tablet back onto the table.

John makes a non-committal sound as he shrugs. No one has a good answer, but Raven’s already claimed the tablet and scrolling through the bright boxes and lines of text. There’s not a question she won’t run through the system, no matter how irrelevant it may be.

(Echo realised she began doing this as much for her—Echo’s—benefit as Emori’s. Many months ago she overheard her arguing with Bellamy about the importance of educating them—the grounders. It was a little affronting, but Echo realised there was no lie in her statement. It was Bellamy’s words that caused the hurt. He didn’t think it wise to trust Echo with more information than was strictly necessary, but otherwise acquiesced.)

Echo glances towards Bellamy. He’s laughing at something Harper says, but the corners of his mouth drop slightly when he meets Echo’s gaze. She looks away, down at the tablet to see what Raven can find.

 _Sad panda_. Cute, Monty called it. Echo realises she doesn’t care if it’s a bear or not. The joke is clear—they’re comparing her warrior paint to the animal’s markings. Harper didn’t mean any harm by it. (Harper never means any harm.) Still, it stings. Beneath the impassive exterior, Echo feels something twist sharp within her.

 _You are Azgeda no more_.

“Ha! Yes, they were. _Giant pandas are in the family Ursidae with the seven other bear species_ ,” Raven explains, tapping on the screen before turning it on the table for Echo to see. The azgona nods, offering her a ghost of a smile in gratitude. It’s been nearly a year and she’s yet to admit to any of them that she cannot read their language properly. She also has no idea what ‘ursidae’ means. She doesn’t ask. The conversation’s moved along.

John’s become the next target, though it ends in flames. Emori chimes in and suddenly he’s on his feet. There’s been tension between them for weeks. Chances are they’ll make up later in the night—loudly. This time, Echo’s not too sure.

Echo rises to her feet. She hasn’t decided whether she’ll go after John and try to speak with him, or whether she’s tailing his exit to find some time for herself. It’s still uncomfortable asking for space when more often than not she feels as if she’s impinging already. Her reasons don’t matter, but when Bellamy rises almost simultaneously with a ‘ _I’ll talk to him_ ’, things get decidedly weird.

“I’m going to bed,” she announces.

Bellamy is John friend. John would prefer to talk to a friend, if he wants to talk at all. That’s the thing, she realises. Echo wasn’t necessarily eager to talk to John Murphy, but to perhaps alleviate her loneliness in shared silence.

Everyone bids their goodnights and Bellamy leaves first, allowing Echo to follow closely behind without becoming his shadow. It’s never this awkward between them, though lately there have been landmines buried at every turn. She surmises (with Raven, late one night) that it’s the one-year anniversary of Praimfaya that has him on edge. Clarke, Octavia… Echo knows better than to tread on his toes. He’s saved her life; she shouldn’t expect more.

(The fact that she wants more… So much more than he’d ever give her, is something she has compartmentalised and shoved deep, deep, deep down inside. Just because they’re back on the same side—as they were in Mt Weather—doesn’t mean she’s got a snowball’s chance in hell. Friendship is her foremost goal, and though he is stubborn and leaves her uncertain, water can move mountains. Water is merely ice that's thawed.)

~*~

Echo doesn’t go to bed. Instead she keeps walking until she reaches a secluded window bay. Slotting herself into a crook in the wall, she rests her forehead against the fibreglass pane. It’s cold—too cold. Like biting on ice it causes an unpleasant pain in her forehead, and she’s forced to pull away.

The vigorous rubbing of her palm against her brow masks the sound of approaching footfalls. It’s Harper’s voice that alerts her of someone’s presence.

“You alright?”

Echo leans out from her uncomfortable hiding place and nods.

The smile she offers doesn’t reach her eyes though.

“Listen,” Harper starts. Clasping her hands at her back, the blonde sheepishly approaches. The two of them stare out the window at the vastness of space. In ten minutes the ring will have spun sufficiently for the Earth to come into view.

“I’m not offended,” Echo responds once Harper’s apologised. “It just made me think of... the past.” Home. Azgeda. Roan. Ontari. Nia. Gone. Gone. Dead. Dead. Dead. The breath she takes feels a little thick, but her emotions are sufficiently reigned in for her to maintain an impassive expression.

They stand there in silence for many minutes. Even as the Earth comes into view, Echo feels herself smiling.

“Why’re you smiling?” Harper asks.

“It’s stupid,” Echo says, shaking her head.

The smile on her face vanishes.

“No, come on, tell me. What is it?”

Harper hazards a shoulder bump, then turns on her heel and leans against the view port.

“It’s just nice to share silence with someone,” Echo confesses. She glances down at Harper once she does and notices her distracted expression. Except, her gaze isn’t unfocused. Upon noticing this, Echo glances over her shoulder to find Bellamy standing a few feet away. His arms are crossed, and his feet are shoulder-width apart.

He glances at her then at Earth. The warm tones play across his face, revealing the haunted expression in his eyes as he watches the planet below. Harper pushes off the sill, just as Monty’s voice carries throughout the corridor. The blonde gives Echo’s upper arm a squeeze, her smile fond. They haven’t spoken much, but the azgona realises she might have someone other than Raven to trust with her thoughts.

“Goodnight, Harper.”

“Sleep well, Echo,” she replies, walking away.

The azgona returns her attention to the world below—what’s left of it anyway—and huddles back into her corner. The metal is cold against her skin. It’s been one of those weeks where the thermostat has been loopy, but Raven’s getting closer to fixing it. Until then, Echo’s taken to wearing one of the long-sleeved sweaters they found in the guards’ quarters. Of all the things she misses the most about Earth it’s her furs, oddly enough.

(Most of the other things she misses, Raven has helped with – including the sound files that imitate nature and which she plays on a nightly basis. It’s the only way she could fall asleep the first few weeks. And it was the only way, by extension, that Raven could sleep too.)

“What are you thinking?”

Bellamy steps up to the view port, his arms still folded across his chest.

Echo glances towards him and finds herself staring at his profile.

He looks beautiful, even when haunted.

Her breath catches in her chest as he sharply glances her way. It worries her that maybe he can hear her thoughts, so she represses them all and instead glances out the glass.

“Nothing in particular,” she replies, displeased with the way it sounds.

At this, he makes a sound. It’s unintelligible, but she tells herself not to dwell on it. Maybe these sky-people have developed ways to read brainwaves or the like. There could be magic in this ship and Echo wouldn’t know any better.

Rather than give him access to her thoughts, she swallows thickly and asks: “You?”

Bellamy’s expression hardens.

Echo sees it in the reflection on the plexiglass.

It’s a good way to watch him without watching him, she finds.

“My sister,” he says.

Echo doesn’t say anything.

For the next twenty minutes, neither does he.

~*~

As the ring continues its rotation and Earth slips from view, Bellamy clears his throat.

Echo watches him wipe at his eyes and hazards a glance out the corner of hers. Without a word, he begins to walk away.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he calls out.

Echo wonders what he means by it.


End file.
